


Capture This Moment

by ShiroiNoKiba



Series: AsaNoya Week 2020 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Asanoya Week 2020 (Haikyuu!!), Azumane Asahi-centric, Frottage, M/M, Mild Smut, Nervous Azumane Asahi, Non-Penetrative Sex, Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiroiNoKiba/pseuds/ShiroiNoKiba
Summary: All around them come the voices of teammates too excited to sleep, of managers laughing and joking past lights out, the energy of summer and youth and camaraderie. Asahi tries not to linger on the idea that his only summer training camp will be his last, focusing instead on the pride that comes with knowing that he's got a team with new, good blood in their veins, a team that will make a name for themselves, even after he's had his turn.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu
Series: AsaNoya Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885456
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70
Collections: Asanoya Week 2020





	Capture This Moment

Daichi claps twice, the well-understood signal to settle down. The clamor of voices dies down. All around, the boys sit with legs crossed or outstretched, laying on elbows, hands on chins or holding pillows or books or cellphones; hazel and brown and grey and blue eyes alike turn to give their captain attention.

"Tonight's the last night of training camp," Daichi reminds them. Despite this well-known fact, saddened complaints still rise from the team surrounding him. He holds out his palms for quiet again. "Tomorrow we're heading home, but we leave a different team than when we arrived. These four days have been tough, I've seen you guys put in a lot of work and, even though it might not feel like we have anything to show for it--"

"We were so close to getting a second set from Fukurodani," interrupts Tanaka. " _So close_!"

"If you hadn't been focused on their managers and not flubbed that spike, maybe we would've," teases a smirking Ennoshita from three futons away. Several others snicker.

"I wasn't eyeing their managers!" the future ace defends. "I only have eyes for Kiyo--!"

"Now, now," Suga pats his low-shaven hair, one honey-colored eye on their standing captain. "Let's let Daichi speak, yeah?"

"Yeah, Tanaka," Kinoshita adds quietly behind his hand. "Don't want the last night at camp to be your last on earth too, do you?"

The second years laugh as Tanaka gulps nervously, and Daichi picks up his speech where he'd left off, clearing his throat through his visible irritation.

"As I was saying. Even if it feels like we've got nothing to show for it, there isn't a team here that can say they've learned as much as we have. We felt weak, unprepared, maybe even undeserving. We were the underdogs. The Flightless Crows. But when you're on the bottom, you've got nowhere to look but up. You can't learn anything when you're on top, and because of that we were in the position to learn the most. And we have. Every defeat out there made us stronger. Every penalty trained us more. And when we come back here to train again, we won't be the underdogs. We'll give these guys a fight like they've never seen. We'll be a team to be watched."

He speaks with a clarity in his voice that commands the room, and when he's finished the only eyes left without a glimmer of hope and pride are shielded by defensively reflective lenses. Even Coach Ukai and Takeda-sensei smile fondly at their team where they've stopped outside the doorway on their way down the hall. A hum of excited voices rises among them again.

"But for now," Daichi adds as an important afterthought, "we need to get our rest. Lights out in ten minutes. We have an early morning and a long bus ride tomorrow."

"Great," Tsukishima complains, likely more loudly than he'd meant to.

"Tsukki, I saved the futon next to mine for you," Yamaguchi pipes up with child-like excitement.

"Get your own pillow, _bokē_ ," Kageyama growls, trying to yank a pillow from Hinata's hands.

"That _is_ my pillow! Yours is that one!"

Kinoshita and Narita settle without contest, laying on their stomachs side by side to share one last chapter of a book between them. Tanaka picks up his portable game player, saving his game from before Daichi's speech. Nishinoya stretches loudly, his tongue curling as he yawns magnificently. Daichi and Suga settle in neighboring futons, exchanging goodnights. And Asahi watches all his teammates settle down for bed, taking long looks around him, absorbing the energy, the latent excitement, the impermanence of this moment. He inhales slowly, hoping to commit to memory the scent of dust, of clean soapy skin, of nighttime summer dampness.

"Asahi-san, you have a neighbor yet?" Ennoshita pads over, pillow in hand. Asahi looks up to his younger teammate with a smile.

"Doesn't look like it," he says. "All yours."

"Thanks," Ennoshita says, then pauses just as he's about to throw down his pillow and claim his spot. "Wait. Where are you going to sleep?"

"Hm? Right--"

Asahi pauses too. There's nowhere to put his pillow. The rows of futons are laid out unevenly, and Asahi sits at the foot of the very last futon in the shorter row. If Ennoshita takes it, there'll be nowhere for Asahi to put the pillow in his arms. Yamaguchi, on the other side of them, eyes the elder pair as he slowly and guiltily pulls the covers up and settles into his spot. Everyone else has found their spot. Asahi stands.

"Go on," he encourages Ennoshita. "I'll find another."

"No way," the younger says. "You were sitting on it."

Asahi waves him off politely. "Take it, please," he insists, walking away with his pillow before Ennoshita can say anything else. He pads over to Daichi's futon, whispering to him. "Daichi. I think we're short a futon."

The captain blinks his eyes open, turning them to Asahi. He sighs sleepily, pushing himself up with his hands.

"You grabbed one from the closet, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I let Ennoshita have it."

Daichi sighs again, this time with impatience. "Alright guys," he calls, rubbing his face. "Who didn't bring a futon from the closet?"

Asahi looks back at his teammates, searching puzzled eyes for the guilty party. Tsukishima raises a thin hand after a brief moment.

"I was the last one out of the showers, but there were no more futons when I looked in the closet. I figured someone had taken two or something."

His features look more delicate when his glasses are off, though they still hold the same detached indifference as always. Kageyama speaks next.

"I grabbed the last one," he says. "I thought everyone had theirs already."

"There weren't two with yours?" Suga asks the other setter.

"No," Kageyama responds. There's a brief moment when some begin checking under their futons to make sure they aren't doubled up. No one comes up with anything. Daichi turns back to Asahi.

"Maybe Coach Ukai or Takeda-sensei will know something," he suggests. Asahi takes one look at the darkness under his eyes and gives him a reassuring smile, one that tells him to get rest.

"I'll go check," he says out loud.

Standing, he slides his feet into his slippers and heads to the room he knows Coach and Takeda-sensei are sharing. He knocks and slides the door open after a moment, peering in. "Uh..."

"Azumane," Coach Ukai sits up straighter. A cigarette burns between fingers he has draped over the back of his seat and dangling out an open window. By the looks of the messy book of cards fanned out in his other hand, the two are playing some kind of card game together. Takeda-sensei hunches over the table between them, deep in thought over his next play, but he turns when Asahi excuses himself and takes a step into the room.

"It looks like we're short a futon," he says, then briefly explains the happenings of a few minutes earlier.

"How'd that come to be?" Takeda-sensei ponders, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I was sure to double-check with Coach Nekomata to make sure there would be enough."

"They did have enough, until tonight," Coach Ukai points out, shutting his eyes. "I heard a new kid came to camp late on Ubugawa, maybe they borrowed one of our futons for him thinking we had a spare."

"What to do," Takeda-sensei responds, pulling at his chin a bit. He turns to Asahi. "Perhaps there is a spare hanging around with another team? If you could check with them I'm sure you'll find something. If not, I'll make sure I can get one for you."

"Thanks," Asahi replies, ducking his head a bit.

"Come back here if you haven't found something," Takeda-sensei says, digging in his pocket for his phone. No doubt he had some connection here in Tokyo that could loan out a futon. As he flips his phone open and scrolls through his contacts, Coach leans forward and cranes his neck, his eyes scouring the hand of cards Takeda-sensei laid carelessly on the table in favor of his phone. The teacher calls out in surprise, scrambling to cover his hand, stuttering out an apology over the phone as Coach Ukai sits back again, laughing. Asahi turns to leave.

As he's shutting the door behind him, Asahi hears a familiar voice call his name. He turns to its source to find Nishinoya padding down the hall in bare feet, his arms burdened with the weight of heavy feather pad and covers.

"I found a futon for you!" he calls far too loudly for the time of night.

"You were looking?" Asahi asks in surprise. "Thanks, Nishinoya."

The second year hoists the futon up higher in his arms. His hair, washed and dried flat and soft instead of up in his usual style, sticks to his temples with the sweat that beads on his skin. He looks exhausted--the futon, rolled up, is just about as big as he is, and factoring in the entire day's worth of practice and the summer heat--and still, he smiles at his upperclassman, proud of his find.

"It won't fit in our room though," he says.

"It won't?"

"It's a double," the libero concludes, adjusting his hold on the thing again. "We can only fit one more single in there." Asahi bends to relieve him of it. Indeed, it's much more cumbersome than a single.

"So what do we do?" Asahi asks, suspecting from the glimmer in his eye that Nishinoya wouldn't have presented the futon to him without a plan.

"There's an empty room next to ours, we can put it there!" he says with a smile, and Asahi smiles, too.

"Sounds good, lead the way," he says, and the pair of them start down the hall side by side. All around them come the voices of teammates too excited to sleep, of managers laughing and joking past lights out, the energy of summer and youth and camaraderie. Asahi tries not to linger on the idea that his only summer training camp will be his last, focusing instead on the pride that comes with knowing that he's got a team with new, good blood in their veins, a team that will make a name for themselves just as Daichi had said in his speech, even after he's had his turn.

And Nishinoya buzzes with his own excitement. A kind of silent energy, felt more than seen, pours from him. Asahi feels it prickle lightly in his skin like static where their arms nearly touch. He peers down at the top of the second year's head, trying to get a read of him. What has him bouncing like this so close to bedtime?

"Where did you find a double futon?" he asks as they reach the spare room. Nishinoya opens the door for him and clicks on the light. It's empty, just like the others, with the same faint smell of dust and dampness. It's clean, though, and Asahi sets down the futon in the middle of the cool floor.

"Yukie-san and Kaori-san from Fukurodani were sharing it, but Kaori-san had to go home for tonight."

"Hm," Asahi hums, only half listening. He pulls each corner of the pad, stretching the futon out to its full width and length.

"So I traded my futon for Yukie-san to sleep on and got this one," Nishinoya continues casually. The sentence might have slipped by unnoticed. But just then, just as he finishes smoothing out the feather cover, Asahi's brain snaps to full attention.

"Wait, what did you say?" he asks, turning and standing to face the libero. "You traded yours for this one?"

"Yep!" Nishinoya nods, a smile fixed on his face and his hands planted on his hips.

"Now where are you going to sleep?" Asahi asks. Maybe he'd been wrong about Nishinoya having a plan after all.

"Right here!" the second year says, pointing to the same futon Asahi had just laid out.

"B-b-but--"

"It's a double, isn't it?" Nishinoya says over his stammering. "That means it fits two people. C'mon, lay down. I'll go get your pillow!"

"N-Nishinoya!" Asahi tries, but the second year is already out the door.

"Oh, jeez... what is he thinking?" Asahi whispers to himself. Already he can feel a blush warming his cheeks. Is he really going to share the futon with Nishinoya? He crawls on top of it, and just he alone takes up most of the room on the pad. It'll be a tight fit...

"Here you go!" Nishinoya surprises Asahi when he pops back into the room with pillows and blankets. How can he look so casual when he's about to share a futon with a teammate?

"Nishinoya," Asahi says again, making sure to keep from stuttering. "You really want to sleep here? With me?"

Nishinoya, for his part, doesn't look the least bit fazed. "Yeah. Why not?" He blinks big, feline eyes at his senior teammate, like he's surprised the question would even be asked.

"Why not?" Asahi repeats, feeling himself get increasingly flustered. He gestures to where his legs lay across the pad, covering most of it. "There's barely any room. I don't think it'll fit two people."

"Nonsense," Nishinoya refutes, tossing Asahi his pillow and cover. He throws his own down next to the third year. "The managers shared it, why can't we?"

"Nishinoya," Asahi pleads, his shoulders sagging. His face is warmed by a proper blush now. "I'm much bigger than either of them..."

"And I'm smaller," the libero counters easily. "It balances out."

Asahi sighs, defeated. He should know better; once Nishinoya has an idea in his mind, it's quite impossible to get him to change it. The second year makes to get on the futon.

"Ah-ah!" Asahi stops him, putting up one hand. Nishinoya retreats, surprised. Asahi puts on as serious a face as he can muster, given his state of self-consciousness. "You've been walking all around this place with your bare feet. No way you're getting in the futon with me like that."

"What? My feet aren't--" Nishinoya stops, getting a look at the bottom of his foot. His nose even wrinkles a little.

"Wash up," Asahi says, feeling his chest puff up just a bit for having stood up to Nishinoya on at least this. "You can take my slippers."

"Okay," the second year says, hooking his fingers in Asahi's slippers and slinking out the door. In the meantime, Asahi makes up the futon; summertime means it's far too hot to lay under the feather cover. He pulls it up all the way, using it for extra cushioning against the floor. The blankets that Nishinoya brought, just light sheets really, he spreads on top of the mat and cover, folding the top down about a palm's-width. He puts his pillow down on one side and picks up the other. As he does, smell of shampoo, of sleep, makes him pause before putting the pillow down beside his own. He feels something tighten pleasantly in his chest, and he brings the pillow to his nose. Inhaling deep, drawing in the scent of him, of Nishinoya, Asahi shuts his eyes and feels all the tension begin to liquify and drain away. The thought of being surrounded by this smell, of laying next to a small, warm body... maybe it won't be as awkward as he thinks.

"There, all clean." Nishinoya shuffles in with Asahi's too-big slippers on his feet. He yawns. "I'm bushed."

Asahi slides over as much as he can as the younger kicks off his slippers and flops down onto their shared sleeping arrangement. Asahi chuckles as he watches Nishinoya nuzzle into the pillow and pull his blanket up to his chin. Asahi does the same, settling down on his side of the futon and draping the cover up. "Long day, huh?"

"The longest," Nishinoya sighs, his eyes springing open as he answers. He lays on his side, one arm under the pillow. "It was fun, though. The camp."

Asahi can hear the smile in his voice even without looking at him. He smiles too. "Yeah, it was. I'll miss this. I wish we could do it again."

"I wish it didn't have to end," the other says with a long exhale. Asahi turns to face him, but his right shoulder complains. Loudly. He flinches and rolls back, pressing his thumb into the pain to try and stop it. Nishinoya's head lifts from the pillow. "Asahi-san?"

"It's alright," Asahi says through his teeth.

"Is it your shoulder? What happened?"

The concern in his voice makes Asahi feel guilty. He tries to laugh it off. "It's nothing. It's been bothering me for a bit, but it should be okay in the morning. I think I hit a spike wrong or something, it must be just a pull."

"Just a pull?" Nishinoya repeats, moving to sit on his knees. "Asahi-san, you wouldn't be sweating over just a pull."

Indeed, a dampness has broken over his forehead. He tries to hide a wince when he sits up, too. "It's nothing, I promise--"

"Let me see."

And Asahi sighs. Pulling his hair over his other shoulder, he lifts the sleeve of his t-shirt. Nishinoya inspects him closely.

"I told you it's nothing," Asahi says calmly after a silence.

"It's swollen," Nishinoya says. He lifts a finger and places it where Asahi had pushed in his thumb. "Is it here?"

Asahi nods, then the air leaves his lungs when Nishinoya applies just a bit of pressure on the spot under his finger. The second year retreats quickly, his eyes wide.

"You're overworking it," he says. Asahi eyes him sidelong, watches how the determination glazes his eyes. The libero stands, taking Asahi's hand in his. "Let's try some stretches."

"D-do you know what you're doing?" Asahi asks as Nishinoya stands behind him and guides his hand up and over his head. He winces in anticipation, but there's no pain in the movement.

"Sure I do," Nishinoya states. "When I was suspended from practice, the ladies I was training with showed me some stretches to do after tough practice or a long game. I think they get them from physical therapists and stuff."

After a few seconds, he guides Asahi's hand back down, then circles it forward and straight up. Asahi groans a little with this one, the ache stretching nicely. He feels a little thumb press gently into his shoulder blade. Nishinoya's hand slide down his arm to his elbow, pulling his arm back just a little bit more to deepen the stretch.

"Ohh," Asahi groans again, his eyes squeezing shut.

"Is that good?" the second year asks. Asahi nods, and he chuckles. "I can feel how tense the muscles here are."

He presses down with his thumb a little harder and massages the soreness. It's tender, the muscles tired and stiff, but his thumb works to slowly rub all that away. Asahi sucks air through his teeth against the pain of it at first, then relaxes more and more as the libero keeps massaging. Nishinoya lets his hand drop back into his lap, then presses each of his thumbs into Asahi's trapezius muscles, massaging him there. Asahi finds himself leaning into the touch, his eyes closed as he soaks in the care and gentleness. Nishinoya's small, strong hands squeeze and rub, mitigating the buildup of four rough days of training. Asahi's breaths slow, the lull of sleep begins to tug at him.

"Nishinoya," he says, his voice sounding distant to his drifting mind. "We should get to sleep."

He feels the little hands stop, resting on his shoulders. One of them moves his hair back over his shoulder, and then they both vanish. Asahi feels the weight of footsteps return to the other side of the futon. He opens his eyes as Nishinoya is sitting.

"You're good at that," Asahi says, smiling at his underclassman. He rolls his shoulder a few times, and the ache that had been bothering him persistently is nearly gone. "I haven't felt this loosened up in a long time. You say the ladies you practiced with taught you that?"

Nishinoya glows proudly with the praise, trying to nonchalantly shrug him off. "Oh, it's no big deal. They thought it would be useful to know in case I got hurt receiving or something."

"Well I'm glad they taught you. It sure helped. Thanks, Nishinoya." Asahi lays back against the pillow again on the same shoulder, but this time with no pain. Nishinoya lays back, too, but despite their obvious fatigue, neither of them close their eyes. Something has shifted, Asahi feels. Reluctance, hesitation, and tension has been replaced by comfort, by familiarity, by tenderness. The lack of space between them suddenly doesn't feel as daunting. He realizes he's staring into the charcoal eyes across the pillows from him but he can't look away. He doesn't want to miss a moment of the way they glisten with life, of how they drink him in and surround him with an inner warmth he can't explain. And they stare back. He doesn't know what they see, it doesn't show in their dark depths. But he doesn't mind being seen so closely, being looked at so profoundly. He draws a breath to give himself courage.

"Nishinoya," he whispers over his erratic heartbeat. One of his hands is sliding across the futon, reaching to close the tiny breadth of space with a touch. It's slow work. "You forgot to shut the light off when you came in."

"It's okay," the other whispers back. His body seems rooted, like he's lying in wait, ready to receive the touch. "It's better like this."

Adrenaline floods his veins, burning his lungs and propelling his hand forward, up out of the cover and across Nishinoya's cheek. It nestles there, his fingers reaching into dark hair, his thumb running across the supple skin on cheekbone. Nishinoya is quiet, his eyes round and consuming, his jaw a little slack so his lips part where the breath rushes between them. Neither of them blink. Neither of them move for a while. Then all at once, their bodies are meeting, their legs are tangling, their lips press together. Asahi feels something burst inside him with flashes of gold and stars. Nishinoya is so small, so warm, so _here_. He kisses Asahi with a fever and Asahi lets him, moving his hand to the back of his head to pull him impossibly close. Nishinoya wraps his arms around Asahi's neck and turns his head to kiss him deep, his tongue filling Asahi with warmth. They kiss each other breathless, only stopping when they're dizzy for air. Nishinoya's rolled over to straddle Asahi's middle, the elder's hands pinning him in place by the hips. Nishinoya draws back, gasping, his lips so red. Asahi chuckles when he sees an uncharacteristic pinkness in his cheeks.

"What?" Nishinoya prompts, laughing himself.

"What are we doing?" Asahi asks, mostly questioning himself. But Nishinoya responds by shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter," he says, still smiling. "We're here, we'll never get this moment back. Don't dwell. Just be here with me."

Asahi feels his smile drop, feels his mouth gape with wonder and admiration. Heat flushes through him, his fists bunch Nishinoya's t-shirt. Sights and smells and sounds suddenly magnify as his mind desperately works to etch this moment into his memory. Swallowing, he nods slowly. "I'm here, Nishinoya."

Two small hands hold his face as the younger brings their lips together again. Asahi kisses him hard, looping his arm all the way around his waist and flips them over. Nishinoya clings to him, letting out a little "whoa!" of surprise. Asahi chuckles, settling over him on his haunches to kiss him some more. The second year starts pulling at his shirt, then his own shirt, then his shorts, like he can't decide what to do and tries every option at once. Asahi pulls back, looking down at the gasping and flushed Nishinoya beneath him. He picks up a frantic hand and kisses the palm.

"We shouldn't," he whispers against moist skin, shutting his eyes and kissing there again.

"Why not?" Nishinoya says, not at all whispering. Asahi opens his eyes.

"Someone... someone might hear," he says, feeling a flush in his cheeks. "The whole team is right next door."

Nishinoya, as determined as ever, tilts his head all the way back and says to the wall, at his talking volume, "Hey, Tsukishima~! Can you hear me?" He even cups his hand around his ear for a moment, then sitting up a bit, he puts his hands around his mouth and says to the door, "Oy! Daichi-san? Suga-san?" He pauses again, waiting for a response he knows won't come. Asahi sighs as he lays back down on the pillow, smirking.

"Okay, I get it," he says with a defeated laugh. He shakes his head, moving down for another kiss. Now, he lets one hand wander up from where it's resting on Nishinoya's hip, lets it travel under the hem of his shirt and against blazing skin. Nishinoya is damp with sweat and impatience. His own hands unceremoniously pull Asahi out of his top at once. The smaller boy tosses the garment aside and pushes Asahi's shoulder, rolling them over. Asahi lays back, lets Nishinoya burn him with kisses down his neck and chest, down to the waistband of his shorts. He looks down into charcoal eyes that flow like liquid, and he blanches. "N-Nishinoya...?"

The younger lifts his head right away, and Asahi feels the oxygen return to his lungs. Nishinoya crawls back up so they're face to face again.

"Too much?" he asks honestly. Asahi swallows.

"A-a bit," he says. "Maybe we could just kiss for a little longer?"

Nishinoya smiles easily, and their lips rejoin. They kiss slow now, mouths connecting, tongues intertwining, breath mingling. It's so hot--Asahi feels the sweat tickling down his temples--but he holds Nishinoya flush against him anyway. He moves away just enough to pull off his shirt before pressing himself against Asahi again. The contact gives Asahi a jolt. His hands begin to move with a mind of their own, feeling Nishinoya everywhere they can reach; squeezing his thighs, running his nails lightly down his back, tracing up and down his arms. It's only when Nishinoya drops his hips against Asahi's, sending fire burning through his loins, does Asahi realize just how aroused he is.

"Nishinoya," he sighs.

"Asahi-san," the younger responds. He cocks his hips up and presses down again, rubbing hard, making them both toss their heads back. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," Asahi can barely say. He grabs Nishinoya's behind in both hands, making the movement again, making that pleasure erupt in his belly again. "Oh, god," he breathes. He can feel the blood rushing. Nishinoya scrambles to get his shorts off, to tug down Asahi's. Through their underwear, the friction becomes almost unbearably good. Asahi holds on while Nishinoya rocks himself back and forth, panting and cursing and driving Asahi insane with the feel of him. He rolls them over again, stripping the boy now under him with one hand and pulling the covers their lower halves with the other. Nishinoya blinks big eyes up at him, hanging on to his upper arms.

"I..." Asahi pauses, trying to gather himself. "I want to kiss you. Everywhere."

Nishinoya just smiles. "So do it."

Asahi tries to contain his excitement, the rush of arousal that makes his underwear even tighter. He swallows, looking down at the small body beneath him. Flushed and waiting. Sprinkled with sweat and dotted with little moles, but also sculpted tight with muscle. He descends, pressing his lips first against the rise of collarbone, against the slight swell of chest. Curious, he lets his lips graze against a nipple and Nishinoya gasps, so he does it again.

"Mm! Asahi-san," Nishinoya says, his voice taught, when Asahi's tongue swirls around it to taste it. Asahi feels fingers in his hair when he kisses that moistened nipple before he continues down. His tongue precedes each kiss, licking up salt and sweet anticipation. He reaches soft musk, heat, hard and waiting flesh. He glances up, seeing Nishinoya's slack jaw, his knotted brow, his pink blush, and takes him in one hand. One kiss he presses on flushed glans, another just underneath, and another two fingers' width down. He licks his lips, tasting Nishinoya there. He wants to fill his mouth with that taste, so he does, ignoring that he doesn't know what he's doing in favor of doing what feels right. Nishinoya's spine curls forward. "Ha~! Asahi-san!"

His eyes screwed shut and his jaw clenched tight now, one might think he's in pain. Asahi almost pulls back until he hears a rush of air from strained lungs, feels the fingers in his hair tighten, tastes a faint bitterness that covers his tongue. He swallows it down. He works until his neck is tired, until Nishinoya doesn't have the strength to hold himself up anymore, until he's quivering all over with a fist in his mouth to keep his voice in.

"A-Asahi-san," he trembles. "I'm gonna come."

Adrenaline rushes through Asahi again, but he doesn't stop. He puts his nerves aside and keeps going, moving his head up and down, pleasuring Nishinoya with his mouth. He wants to hear it. He wants to feel it. Nishinoya's climax. But he doesn't. Instead, the second year stops him, pushing his head gently aside. Asahi, confused, watches as his arousal bobs emphatically, streaming with clear lubrication doubtless in longing for its wanted release. 

"But I thought you--?"

"You want it too, right? Is it okay now?" the second year asks, smiling. Asahi, still not fully understanding the sudden stop, nods. Nishinoya guides him up to the pillow, turning him on his back. He pulls the thin blankets up as he moves down, vanishing beneath them. Asahi, making to pull them away, can only bunch them in his hands when he feels little teeth graze his hip. He inhales sharply, surrendering when fingers curl into the waistband of his underwear and tug them down. Now he's grateful that Nishinoya can't see his face; he's sure that the way the pleasure is making his eyes roll and his mouth hang loose isn't something he'd want the libero to see. It's enough that he can hear the gasps and whimpers jumping from his lungs.

But wow. The way his mouth feels is... nothing like Asahi has ever felt before. It makes his body erupt in sweat, it turns his mind blank. Tight, sucking heat, glazing him from base to tip. Wet and warm and sinfully good. His toes curl. Nishinoya's tongue is silky, almost ticklish, sending shocks of pleasure up Asahi's spine. And he's not shy; the sounds coming from under the covers are so lewd that Asahi has half a mind to tear them back and watch. He props himself up on one elbow and covers his mouth with the back of his other hand. Desire scorches through his veins, twisting his brow in a knot. He has to hold back from tossing his hips up into that heat. It feels like a spring is tightening more and more with each stroke of his tongue. That spring tightens, clenching his muscles tight, under a pressure so enormous it almost frightens Asahi. How had he said it? How had Nishinoya pronounced his release? Asahi doubts he can make himself say something so embarrassing, _but the pressure..._

"I'm--" he tries. "I have--Nishinoya, I'm going to come!"

And the spring releases, leaping up and out and taking all of Asahi's sanity with it. Pleasure swamps him, floods his whole body with euphoria. He's sure he's being too loud, but he can't keep his voice from spilling out. It's too much to keep inside, and he feels dizzy with the intensity of it. Sweat seems to make rivers down him as he gasps for breath. When it finally begins to subside, Nishinoya emerges from the covers, flushed pink with heat and effort, smiling and licking his lips. Asahi, still panting, pulls the covers aside to see.

"You...you swallowed it?"

Nishinoya nods, laughing a little as he crawls up Asahi's body. Asahi scrunches his nose when the younger gives him a peck on the lips, expecting anything but the sweetness he tastes. He relaxes, kissing him with less reluctance. As he does, he can still feel Nishinoya down below. He can still feel the arousal built up inside him. He reaches between their bodies and takes hold of that arousal, making Nishinoya gasp. He strokes long and slow, gripping tight, making sure Nishinoya can feel the entirety of his hand. He knows it's working when the younger's brows crease and his eyes fall shut.

"Asahi-san..."

Asahi feels a swell of desire. He wants to hear his name again, he wants to hear that voice again. He wants it over and over, so he strokes more vigorously, rolls them over and grinds his hips down against him. Nishinoya grabs his upper arms and cries out, a sound like Asahi has never heard from him. It ignites his blood. Small, powerful, staunch Nishinoya beneath him; looking just as small, but much softer, much more placid, more kissable and caressable. As much as Asahi admires the team's Guardian Diety and all his unmatched qualities, _this_ Nishinoya--this playful, lusty, raw version of him--Asahi wants this Nishinoya all to himself.

He lifts a small, muscular leg over his forearm, resting his weight in his knees and that hand. His other hand holds Nishinoya's face gently, carefully, as if he were as fragile as his expression suggests. Back and forth Asahi thrusts, bringing Nishinoya closer to what he'd denied himself earlier. Asahi can almost see the spring tightening inside him, too.

"Nishinoya," he pants, "look at me."

And he does, surrounding Asahi with a charcoal warmth that never changes, that never sways.

"Asahi-san... I'm gonna-- _ahh_!" He can't say it, seized too soon by a tremor in his whole body, one that makes his nails dig into Asahi's skin, one that makes those intense eyes cross. His chin quivers, his voice is gone, and Asahi feels something hot streak across his belly. He looks down between them, his hips still rocking, and watches as Nishinoya finishes all over the two of them. It turns him on more than he'd be willing to say out loud. To make sure he won't say it, he kisses Nishinoya softly. His lips tremble, but he kisses back. Asahi pulls back to look at him. They're both sticky with sweat and seed and the sweetness of their shared intimacy. Nishinoya is still breathing hard. Asahi's thumb glides back and forth over his cheek.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly. Nishinoya nods enthusiastically.

"Yeah," he says with a laugh and a sparkling smile. "I'm really good. You?"

Asahi smiles now, too. "Yeah. I'm good too."

He lays down beside the second year, their gaze still locked. Nishinoya looks away first, pushing a hand through his hair.

"I need another shower," he says, swallowing hard.

"Me, too," Asahi agrees. He pushes himself up and looks around at the four walls surrounding them. He knows it should be impossible to note from only one side, but... they look pretty thin. Embarrassment catches up to him; through the fog of lust and desire, he couldn't hear quite how loud he was being. Now that the silence of the dead of night has a chance to rise around them, he becomes incredibly self-conscious. "Do you think anyone heard?"

"Heard what?" Nishinoya pushes himself up, standing in his nakedness to pull on his shorts. "You coming? Or you asking if I swallowed it?"

"Nishinoya!" Asahi exclaims, his face and ears burning. The libero just laughs.

"I'm kidding! No one heard anything." Nishinoya offers a hand and pulls Asahi to his feet. "At least I don't think."

Asahi blanches. "You said it would be fine!"

"It will be!" Nishinoya laughs harder, hardly able to stay upright. "You'll see. Race you to the showers!"

The second year takes off, leaving Asahi to put his feet in his slippers and shuffle behind. Running after those small, yet remarkably dependable shoulders, Asahi thinks to himself. If anyone heard them, he decides he's okay with that. He will only be this young once. He will only live this night once. If all he can take with him are memories, then he might as well have some good ones.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Did you enjoy this little moment between Asahi and Nishinoya? I hope you'll leave a kudos if you did, and don't be afraid to comment your favorite part! I also take requests. If you want to see me write something else, leave me a comment with your idea down below--I'd love to hear it! Feel free to subscribe to my page if you'd like to read more of my writing. You can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ShiroiNoKiba). Thank you for reading!
> 
> Update: My commissions are now open! Please be sure to check the pinned tweet on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ShiroiNoKiba) to know how to request me. I'm opening only a few slots, so good luck!


End file.
